


cigarette daydreams

by Kylaroid



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: 100 fics baby!!!!!!!, F/F, S3, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:47:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25290376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kylaroid/pseuds/Kylaroid
Summary: takes place during the safehouse period! in which dom visits and darlene digs for an explanation.
Relationships: Darlene Alderson/Dominique DiPierro
Comments: 1
Kudos: 49





	cigarette daydreams

“ _Hey, hey baby when you walk that way_

 _Watch your honey drip, I can't keep away_ "

* * *

Music buzzes across the floorboards of the safehouse Darlene is currently occupying. _Home sweet fucking home_. The vibrations from the bass rattle the beams and Darlene wonders if the neighbors would complain. Actually, Darlene hopes that they do. _What are they going to do? Call the cops on me? Ha_. Scoffs dry under her breath and shakes her head. That would be funny, she thinks. The sun is waning—a sliver of gold resting on the horizon as the night takes over. And Darlene is doing her best to cope. With her brother, with being an FBI informant, with Cisco’s death—with fucking everything. Well, coping is generous if not inaccurate. The old shrink she saw three times before quitting would probably call it maladaptive coping or something along those lines. She’s always been better with distractions than actually addressing the underlying issue. Places a cigarette between her lips and takes a long drag as she does some half-assed attempt at dancing across the kitchen tile to the music. Exhales heavily and watches as the smoke billows up into the humid air of the flat.

There’s a knock at the door—clear and loud enough to cut through the music and startle Darlene, just a little. She brings the cigarette back to her mouth, to take the edge off. Lets the smoke fill her lungs and hopes that if she ignores whoever is at the door they’ll go away. Unfortunately, it seems she wouldn’t be that lucky. They knock again—louder and longer this time. Darlene almost considers opening the door, if only to tell the person to go fuck right off, but the deadbolt clicks open before she has the opportunity. Her wide eyes stay trained on the door, one foot always ready to bolt if need be. Darlene knows that logically, it’s likely someone from the bureau being way too nosy. But there’s always that lingering irrepressible fear that the Dark Army finally caught up to her. When the door swings open and a swath of red locks flurries in the air, Darlene can feel the adrenaline begin to dissipate. Rolls her eyes and leans back against the counter—resting her cigarette in the crux of her fingers. She’s not surprised. Dom always seems to make the most unexpected visits. But she could at least try to have some grace about it. She knows that Dom’s smart—and she’s cool enough not to treat her like an idiot, like everybody else. But sometimes she wonders if Agent DiPierro has _any_ social tact.

“Working late tonight, DiPierro?” Darlene exhales, watching Dom intently as she meanders her way towards the kitchen. Drops her handbag on the kitchen table that has accrued a variety of takeout containers, burnt cigarettes, and shitty tabloids.

“Most nights, actually.” Dom huffs, reaching up to push her hair back and out of her face. “You should turn down the music, I swear I could hear it down the block.” Darlene rocks back onto her feet and saunters forward, closing the distance between them. Watches Dom as she does. The way that her eyes roll down her figure—catching the expanse of her thighs and hovering around the cut of her shorts. And just as quick as they had settled there, her gaze dashes away. Darlene exhales, a trail of smoke ruminating in the wake of her breath. Leans forward, past Dom, to snuff her cigarette out against the glass surface of her ashtray.

“Dude, come on, Black Dog is a classic.” Dom tilts her head, hands slides into her back pockets—as if she wasn’t sure where else she should put them. The shrug of her shoulders provoking a playfully aghast expression from Darlene. Quirks her brows and cocks her head to the side as she interrogates Dom—enjoying the slight role reversal. “What—not a Zeppelin fan?”

“It’s not bad.” Dom concedes. Darlene chuckles dryly at that. _Not bad_.

“God, somebody needs to get that stick out of your ass.” Mimes Dom and crosses her arms as well. Takes a half-step closer, testing the waters. “So, what’re you here for anyways?” She wheedles. Dom loves to pop in whenever she seems to please, but usually keeps her visitations strictly to business hours. _Something is off._

“I—” Dom pauses, gaze drifting to the floor as she contemplates her response. “Just wanted to check-in, I guess.” Dark eyes narrow skeptically. More out of confusion than anything else. Darlene needs some clarity.

“Well, I don’t have anything to give you. Not like I saw Tyrell perusing the bodega.” Dom shakes her head, instinctually tucking the hairs that cascade over her shoulder back as they fall.

“I wasn’t talking about the case.” Dom lets the sentiment hang in the air between them. She knows Darlene is smart enough to read between the lines and she isn’t brash enough to finish that thought. 

“I’m doing just peachy. Well, until an FBI agent broke into my apartment and told me to turn my music down. That was kind of a downer.” Dom’s eyebrows lift incredulously—exasperatedly.

“Darlene, I’m being serious. Are you okay?” Dom always softens when she says her name. Darlene isn’t quite sure why— _or at least doesn’t want to acknowledge why_ —her chest warms whenever Dom calls her.

“Why do you care?” Their gazes meet and remain steady—searching each other for answers. Transparent answers locked behind glass walls and towers.

“I just do.” Dom returns, voice soft and vulnerable. Her gentle tone provokes an ineffable emotion to stir quick and hot in Darlene’s chest. Looking at her, sheepish and laying herself emotionally bare before Darlene, she can’t help but yearn. Just a touch.

Maybe it’s because she’s so touch-starved. Maybe it’s because nobody has shown her such unconditional affection in so long. Maybe it’s because the music blaring is fucking with her senses. But Darlene closes the distance between them. Presses her lips to Dom’s—quick and imprecise and messy. Waits for Dom to pull away, but she doesn’t. Dom is still, for a moment, simply riding Darlene’s coattails before she reacts. Hands glissading along the sides of Darlene’s neck to pull her in closer. Darlene follows suit and tangles her hands up in Dom’s hair—pleased with how smooth and soft her locks are. Enjoying the artificial sweetness on Dom’s tongue when they deepen the kiss. _Shit—is this really happening?_ Darlene doesn’t try to card through her emotions or logic or reason behind what is happening. She just wants to enjoy this.

Her hands slide down from Dom’s hair and slip under the fabric of her blazer—gliding it off of her shoulders until it drops onto the floorboards. Pulls at the hemline of Dom’s top, motioning for her to remove it as they continue steady open-mouthed kisses. Slowly guiding Dom back towards her bed. Pushes her flat against the mattress and follows lead—hovering overtop of her and straddling her thighs. Looking down at the agent sprawled out across her bed, she can’t help but think.

 _God, she’s gorgeous_. Messy red hair fanned out across the surface of her pillow. Toned biceps and the faint outline of abs. She’s never gotten such a good look at her tattoos before. They’re nice—really nice. Sexy, even. Smiles despite herself and tends to the nape of Dom’s neck. Sinks her teeth into her soft supple flesh and enjoys how Dom whimpers in response. Makes an imprint of her teeth before leaving a series of bruises across her skin. Imagines Santiago or Norm asking about them in the morning and wonders what half-assed lie Dom would give.

Brings her mouth lower—fluttering around her abs and drifting to her hips with tender kisses. Notices how Dom’s breath quickens and her ab muscles tense and quiver with anticipation. Hips already rolling for friction. She’s so transparent about her needs, but somehow so endearingly shy about them at the same time. It’s almost _annoying_. Most people just tell her how hot she is and tell her how badly they want to fuck her, but Dom—she’s almost speechless. It makes Darlene even more determined to break her out of that shell.

Darlene chuckles—tells Dom to tell her what to do. Hovers her mouth around Dom’s center—breath hot as she speaks. Unwilling to move until Dom is explicit about what she wants. What she _needs_. Dom stumbles for an answer and eventually fumbles out the response Darlene was wheedling for—that desire for her mouth against her clit. The corners of her lips crook into a smile and she grants Dom’s sheepish request. Drags her tongue along the length of her folds—once, twice. Dips her tongue in to taste the sheen at her entrance and savors the way that Dom moans in turn. Relishes the tangy subtle flavor of her wetness across her tongue and drawls that slickness up to her clit. Dom’s fingers are running through her wavy tresses and urging her to continue working that throbbing sensation. “ _Darlene—_ ” She’s always liked the way that Dom says her name. But like this—breathless and heady and soaked with desire and need. God, she could drown in the sound of Dom calling her. “ _Jesus H_ —yes— _fuck_ that’s so good—” She’s never heard Dom swear before, but Darlene likes to think that maybe she’s a good influence on her. She could stand to let loose a little. Hums pleasantly at the litany of praises rambling from Dom’s lips—enjoying how vocal Dom is getting under her touch. The way she whimpers and moans out nearly incoherent words of worship like a church gospel. “ _Darlene—_ ”

Darlene flutters her eyes open, weary and taking a moment to gather her bearings. She’s at the safehouse. She’s in bed. Reaches over and grabs her phone—squinting at the bright light of her screen as it nearly blinds her. It’s five in the morning. She groans and slides her phone back under her pillow—rolling over and yanking the covers over her head to process what the _fuck_ just happened.

It was just a dream. A really _really_ weird wet dream featuring Agent Dom DiPierro. It’s just because she hasn’t gotten laid recently—she rationalizes. Plus Dom is one of the only people she ever sees. It’s not _that_ weird that it was her. It was just her brain pulling random shit together during a REM cycle. Nothing weird about it at all. But Darlene feels like her rationalizing is half-assed and a little pathetic. Especially against the throbbing sensation aching between her lips. She groans at how seemingly easily her body was affected and rolls over again. Presses her face into her pillow and groans—wondering how the hell she’s going to get any more sleep after _that_.


End file.
